


A Crystal Hope

by Lomonaaeren



Series: From Samhain to the Solstice 2019 [18]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Seer Theodore Nott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21578302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomonaaeren/pseuds/Lomonaaeren
Summary: Theodore is almost embarrassed about his Divination talent. It shows him small visions of his own future, never anything grand or important. Except, maybe, for the first time he looks into the globe after the war, when he sees Harry Potter.
Relationships: Theodore Nott/Harry Potter
Series: From Samhain to the Solstice 2019 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1532687
Comments: 51
Kudos: 1326





	A Crystal Hope

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my "From Samhain to the Solstice" fics for this year.

Theodore sometimes wondered why he had bothered signing up for Divination. Yes, it had seemed an easy class at the time, and when he was thirteen, his life goals had included sleeping through more than one morning without being interrupted by Crabbe and Goyle’s snoring. Thoughts of what it would take to parley his NEWT’s into a career had been far away.

After all, he was a Nott, and most of his ancestors had thought working was for other people.

And yes, he could look into a crystal globe—it had to be pure crystal, though, nothing like those cheap imitations in Trelawney’s classroom—and see visions. But did he see the outcome of important duels, or where long-lost Galleons were buried, or even who was secretly snogging whom in the cupboards near the Slytherin common room? He did not. He saw only his own future.

Granted, sometimes that was useful, like when he saw that Malfoy would spill all his ink in Transfiguration the next day, and so he already had his own books and bag sitting out of the way when it happened. And he saw activities that would earn him detentions, and he managed to avoid them by not cursing someone or taunting them.

A lot of people thought of Theodore as quiet, he knew. In reality, he knew when to keep his mouth shut so he wouldn’t get in trouble.

But he didn’t think much of the Divination talent. So far, it seemed to mostly reassure him that he was going to have a really boring life.

*

Then the war happened.

Theodore took out his crystal globe a few weeks before the end of his sixth year, because everyone around him was acting secretive and strange—Malfoy ducking out for hours on the seventh floor, Crabbe and Goyle helping him, Blaise acting as if he knew everything and dropping dark hints about his mother, Pansy and Daphne gossiping about the attacks, Bulstrode practicing curses by herself in abandoned classrooms—and Theodore wanted to know if there _was_ something he should do about positioning himself in good favor with the winners of the war. He didn’t care particularly whether that winner was the Dark Lord or Dumbledore.

He stared into the crystal ball.

And he saw the attack on Hogwarts.

Breath short, Theodore watched Death Eaters run through the corridors. He saw Malfoy letting them in through a cabinet of some sort in a room full of rubbish. He watched Snape cast a curse that knocked Dumbledore from the walls, and Potter chase him across the grounds, yelling insults.

Theodore saw himself hide in a cupboard, and the chaos sweep past him.

He sat back when the vision finished and his sight folded. He stared into the darkness, and listened to his roommates snoring or working on essays, and wondered if he had an obligation to tell someone about the vision.

But that would mean choosing a side, wouldn’t it? It would mean telling Dumbledore that he could do this, and he wasn’t ignorant of how wizards in the past had tended to treat true Seers. He would be handing Dumbledore, and Potter, a weapon they should never learn how to wield.

On the other hand, wouldn’t _not_ telling them mean he’d chosen a side, too? The Dark Lord’s.

In the end, Theodore compromised and wrote an anonymous note that he sent with a school owl to Dumbledore, warning him about the attack and giving a few details that he hoped would prove that he knew what he was talking about.

He received a note back that appeared on his plate at breakfast the next day. _I knew. But thank you, Mr. Nott._

Theodore glanced up and briefly caught a glimpse of Dumbledore’s twinkling blue eyes aimed at him. He looked hastily away again. All this choosing of sides and rooting for the Dark or the Light was something his _father_ would do. Theodore preferred to stay well out of it and live a quiet life, thank you.

*

And now it was after the war, and he was sitting in front of a crystal ball, staring at it, reluctant to begin the study that would lead him to the Divination NEWT. He had decided to forego the stupid class and instead study on his own.

But he didn’t want to know what would happen if he looked into the crystal. He wanted to know why it hadn’t told him that he would be here alone after the war, his father sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban, other students avoiding him as if he had the plague. Even Malfoy turned away when he saw Theodore. His father had only received a year in prison, probably because of Potter’s interference.

Theodore had the money and the time to do whatever he wanted. He could leave Hogwarts and travel the world if he wanted to. He could buy a house in France, where his father had always talked about living; some of the Nott ancestors had come from there. He could turn away from the crystal and abandon this NEWT.

But Theodore wanted more than that. He wanted more than letting the war define his whole life.

He swallowed, and gazed into the crystal. Visions began to appear at once, cloudy, dancing shapes. Theodore winced and cast a glance around to make sure that his curtains were spelled _all_ the way shut. There were disadvantages to studying the crystal in the middle of his bed in the Slytherin dorms, for all that it was the quietest place he knew.

Dark clouds came together into hair. Pale ones formed a brow. Theodore watched, thinking he would see his own face. Well, even that might be good enough, if he could see a contented smile on it.

But instead, a face formed that he had reason to know, but not to welcome. Harry Potter smiled at him out of the crystal.

Theodore blinked, and his concentration vanished, the vision splintering into pieces and washing away. He swallowed, and called it carefully back, staring as the clouds slid into place again. This time, he got a little more detail.

Potter was wearing fine blue dress robes edged with gold, much better than the ones Theodore remembered him wearing to the Yule Ball. He was turning and extending an arm towards a pair of dark doors. Despite the way Theodore squinted, he couldn’t tell if the room was in Hogwarts or the Ministry or somewhere else entirely.

Then the dark doors opened, and Theodore himself strode through it, such a smile on his face—

Theodore lost his concentration again, and sat with his eyes closed for a long moment before he opened them and tried again.

Such a smile on his face as made him realize that he might know what joy meant, someday.

The envisioned Theodore took the envisioned Potter’s arm, and Potter looked at him with the kind of adoration that must mean they were lovers. Husbands, for all Theodore knew. Potter interlaced their fingers and led Theodore through another pair of dark doors into a room that was beyond sight.

And all the while, the image of Theodore smiled.

The real one fell on his back and stared at the curtained ceiling of his bed for a long time.

*

After thinking about it, Theodore realized that he had another decision to make. The vision dictated nothing. It might be that that would happen under false pretenses, or that he had misinterpreted it and he and Potter _were_ only friends in the vision, despite the level of joy he had shown.

He could sit back and watch the world dance around him and take no action, in the way he always had. Or at least no more action than was appropriate to help him get his NEWTS and assume the responsibilities of the Nott name.

But if he wanted to do more than let the war endlessly define his life…

Then he had to choose. The same way he had chosen to send a note to Dumbledore before the Death Eater attack. And he had to accept that any choice he made would close others off.

That every decision would entail a certain kind of courage.

In the end, because no one else knew about the vision and this wasn’t something like the Death Eater attack where other people would be affected by it regardless, it came down purely to what Theodore _wanted_. Sit back and let the world drift past him the same way the clouds had drifted in the crystal world? Or reach out, and accept the risk, and touch, and take, and hope?

*

Theodore thought it might be fate when he came up from the Slytherin dungeons the next morning and saw Potter wandering by himself into the Great Hall, intently studying a scroll of parchment.

Of course, it wasn’t. Or anything could have been. When he thought about it later, Theodore could remember seeing Potter by himself several times before this, mostly when it seemed Weasley and Granger had got into another argument and he wanted to be alone to revise something for NEWTS.

But there was value in letting some confidence guide his steps. In relying on outside forces to tell him this was a good decision when he needed to feel that anyway.

Theodore took a deep breath and fell into step beside Potter. Potter looked up, blinking, and then gave him a friendly smile. Theodore had to pause to acknowledge how strongly that smile hit him, like a blow from a soft whip.

“Morning, Nott,” Potter said pleasantly. “You’re in NEWT Divination, aren’t you?”

Theodore blinked and cleared his throat. “I—I was, yes, before I decided to study on my own. But I thought you’d dropped that class.” He certainly remembered hearing that from—someone. To be fair, most of the “conversations” he participated in these days involved sitting around and listening to someone else who was ranting or complaining without a care for being overheard.

“I did, because the professor kept predicting my death,” Potter murmured, flipping the scroll around again. “But it seems that I somehow ended up on the NEWT list for it anyway, probably because the Ministry is shoddy at record-keeping. I thought I might try for it. I—used to have prophetic dreams.”

Theodore blinked again. “You did? That is one of the recognized means of seeing the future. Oneiromancy.”

“I’m sure you would know the name better than I would,” Potter agreed, with a calm, disarming smile. “But Professor Trelawney only ever used tea leaves and crystal balls when I was in her class, or wanted dreams about death.” He rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t panic her by telling her that I was seeing Voldemort, anyway.”

“No dreams since the war?” Theodore asked quietly.

Potter paused just outside the Great Hall and glanced sideways at him. “It’s funny that you should ask that.”

“You don’t have to tell me what it was about,” Theodore said, although of course curiosity was eating him up inside. This was a courtesy owed by one Seer to another. He shouldn’t ask about the means that Potter used to see the future, or anything about his visions, unless he volunteered it. It would have been equally ill-mannered for Potter to ask about his visions in the crystal.

“It featured you, actually.”

Theodore found himself staring into Potter’s clear green eyes. They outshone any crystal that he’d ever seen. He’d heard girls, even Slytherin ones, saying that a time or two, but it wasn’t like he’d ever thought he would have the chance to find out for himself. With difficulty, he cleared his throat. “Really?”

Potter nodded. “I barely recalled your face, to be honest. I didn’t interact much with Slytherins who weren’t named Malfoy. But I think it’s important.” He paused. “Would you help me study for the Divination NEWT?”

And Theodore could see how things might happen, a path unrolling before him and Potter—not because he was a Seer, but just in the ordinary way someone might manage to get an accurate glimpse of the future. Late-night study sessions, confessions about dreams, hands brushing as they reached for the same scroll of parchment, studying other NEWT subjects together, long conversations on the path that led to Hogsmeade.

Eyes connecting. Minds connecting, which was the way that Theodore had always thought that he would prefer a romance to be conducted, if he had to have one.

He smiled, the faint smile that was the only one he was capable of summoning right now (even as he wondered whether Harry might teach him differently), and inclined his head. “I would be honored, Potter.”

“Harry, I think.”

“You’re not going to ask for my name?”

“I think that should be up to you to offer.”

In the end, the decision, when it came, and Theodore felt it swinging like a crystal pendulum in his chest, was incredibly easy.

“Call me Theodore,” he said, and his hand clasped Harry’s, and yes, his eyes promised more futures than any crystal ball Theodore had seen.

**The End.**


End file.
